Not now, Penny.
Please, not now.
But the thing was, I didn’t know who he was asking anymore.
Me?
Or Itaca?
Because my wolf was not pacing beneath my skin now.
She was standing at the front of me, shoulder to shoulder with my rage, staring at those three trembling people in light blue scrubs like they were already open wounds.
Maybe a good girl would have stepped back and let the adults handle it. Maybe the sweet twin would have cried into Liam’s chest while Daddy and Pops became nightmares for her. Maybe the girl who wore lip gloss to calculus and made playlists for emotional damage would have waited to be protected.
But Cinderella was dead.
And I was done being the soft half of us.
The sweet twin, the social one, the one who smiled because Perse didn’t, the one who softened room
